Star

If, in the light of things, you fade

real, yet wanly withdrawn

to our determined and appropriate

distance, like the moon left on

all night among the leaves, may

you invisibly delight in this house;

O star, doubly compassionate, who came

too soon for twilight, too late

for dawn, may your pale flame

direct the worst in us

through chaos

with the passion of

plain day.


Derek Walcott